


we will be everything that we'd ever need

by twocankeepasecret



Category: Pretty Little Liars, The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: F/F, crossover ships are my jam, elenison, multiple POVs, party girl!elena
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-25 23:36:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7551505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twocankeepasecret/pseuds/twocankeepasecret
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elena Gilbert and Alison DiLaurentis have been friends since they were kids. Their story, in five parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	we will be everything that we'd ever need

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SergeantPixie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SergeantPixie/gifts).



None of Ali’s friends have ever liked it when Elena comes to town, but Hanna thinks she likes it the least.

It’s not that there’s anything wrong with Elena. She’s gorgeous and skinny and confident and all the things a girl like Ali should have in a best friend, and she’s all dark-haired and mysterious, in a way that sometimes makes Hanna wonder if she’s really Ali’s cousin. She knows she isn’t, though; Elena and Ali are old childhood friends, and have been ever since Ali’s family lived in Georgia.

(“But Elena’s not from Georgia, she’s from Virginia,” Spencer had once pointed out.

“It’s still the south, Spence,” Ali had snapped back.)

Elena is nice and all – well, no, she’s not, but she can be. She isn’t mean like Ali is, though she’s more than happy to giggle along when Ali says something that makes Hanna wish the ground would open up and swallow her – but she’s nice enough to the rest of them. She and Aria both like to read a lot of the same books, but whenever Aria gets too passionate about the romances, Elena laughs and tells her the men in those books are all creeps and she’s hopeless if she thinks that’s what relationships are like, and of course, Elena has a boyfriend and gets the final word. Emily and Spencer both get annoyed because Ali always ignores them for Elena when Elena’s around; whenever Elena looks at them, her mouth is curled up into a smirk and there’s a condescending look in her eyes, like she’s looking at them and seeing lesser versions of herself.

Hanna doesn’t dislike Elena, but she hates having Elena around, because Elena’s exactly what she wants to be, tall and stunning and popular with the world at her feet. Ali’s never said one mean thing to her, and Ali’s said at least one mean thing to everyone, and Elena isn’t nice but she’s not mean to people either, not like Ali. Hanna wishes she could do that. Until she met Elena, she didn’t know that was possible.

Ali’s heading off to Cape May in a few weeks, but of course _Elena_ had to come to town before she left, because Ali couldn’t be happy just spending the summer with the four of them. At least, that’s what Spencer says. If Hanna were Alison, and she had a friend like Elena, she wouldn’t be happy just spending the summer with herself either.

Noel Kahn is having a party, the first night Elena’s in town, and Elena’s in a low-cut tank top with skinny jeans and combat boots. Ali scoffs at her outfit. “God, you’re such a Virginian,” she tells her, but instead of the poison that her words would usually be laced with, she sounds like she really is just teasing.

Elena laughs at that and stands, dark hair spilling down her back. “What are we pregaming with?” she asks.

“Well,” says Hanna, “we have some tequila –”

Elena turns back to Alison. “Do you think Jason has whiskey?” she asks.

“You want to ask Jason for alcohol?” Emily asks, raising an eyebrow. She still stumbles over the word alcohol, like she can’t believe they’re drinking underage. Hanna can’t believe it sometimes, either, but that’s because it feels cooler than she is – Emily says it because she feels guilty.

Elena laughs. “I didn’t say anything about asking,” she says.

That’s how they end up with three bottles of Maker’s Mark and a little plastic baggie of weed, which Elena is expertly packing up into some little bowl-shaped object she also stole from Jason.

“You’re gonna smoke in the house?” Spencer asks. “What if Mr. and Mrs. DiLaurentis smell it?”

Elena shrugs. “They’ll think it’s Jason,” she says, and then, as though to punctuate her statement, she flicks on the lighter and lights the bowl. The rest of them look on with interest.

When she’s done exhaling out the window, she offers the bowl to the rest of the group. “Who’s next?” she asks.

Ali’s next, because of course she is. Emily refuses. Spencer takes a hit and coughs, which makes Elena and Alison laugh.

When it’s Hanna’s turn, she does exactly what she saw Elena do, and gets it right. She exhales out the window, watching the smoke trail out of her mouth, and grins.

Elena drinks a lot more than any of them, even Ali, and by the time they get to the party she doesn’t even seem tipsy. Noel remembers her, which isn’t common for Noel, and it isn’t long until Elena and Alison are doing shots of tequila, which is apparently _now_ good enough for Elena.

An hour into the party, everyone is cheering on as Elena does a kegstand _without_ anyone holding up her legs. Apparently, Elena’s either a perfect cheerleader when she’s drunk, or she’s still sober. Hanna feels dizzy just watching her, and walks off with Emily to sit in a corner for a bit and try not to barf.

When they catch up with Ali and Elena, though, they’re in Noel’s basement, debating about Truth or Dare.

“We don’t play Truth or Dare in this house, Elena,” Noel tells her. “We play Truth.”

“What’s the fun without the dares, though?” Elena asks, a flirty pout gracing her lips. “That sounds lame.”

“Secrets are so much more interesting than dumb pranks,” Noel says.

Elena smirks, and raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really?” she asks, and then leans forward. “I bet I can get you to admit it’s better with dares.”

Noel matches her expression. “What are we betting?” he asks.

Elena looks thoughtful for a second, then opens her purse and pulls out the rest of the weed they’d stolen from Jason but hadn’t smoked. “This is what I’m betting,” she asks. “You?”

Noel grins, and calls out, “Bridget, what’s the best bottle in my dad’s liquor cabinet that you haven’t helped yourself to?” He laughs. “We have a twelve-year-old bottle of Patty Van Winkle. I’ll bet that.”

That means nothing to Hanna, but Elena’s face lights up.

“You’re on,” she says, and then she turns to Hanna, and the look in her eyes is wicked. “Han,” she says, voice sugary. “Dare me to make out with Ali.”

“What?” Hanna asks. Even Ali looks startled.

Elena laughs. “Don’t be a prude, Han,” she says.

Hanna swallows. “I dare you to make out with Ali,” she says, and Elena grins.

She shifts onto her knees and crawls over to Ali until she’s straddling her, and tugs her fingers through Ali’s blonde curls, drawing Ali’s face up to hers, and then – Hanna can’t quite believe what she’s seeing, but Elena’s lips are on Ali’s, moving, moving, and then Ali’s hand is at the base of Elena’s back, and she’s leaning up into the kiss, and Elena’s hand is on Ali’s neck and she’s just about grinding up on Alison.

Every eye in the room is on them. Emily looks like she’s going to throw up.

After a long, long time, Elena pulls away and scoots back on the couch, laughing as though she just told the great joke in the world. She quirks an eyebrow up at Noel, and points a finger at him. Hanna thinks she’s pointing at his stomach, until Elena goes “judging by your little friend there, I think I win.”

After a moment, Noel breaks out of his stupor and bursts into an amazed laugh. “Yeah, I think you do,” he says, and stands, crossing the room to the liquor cabinet. He brings Elena a nice-looking bottle, and Elena unscrews the cap and drinks straight from it, taking two big gulps.

Then she looks up at him, all flirtatiousness. “I take my bourbon very seriously,” she tells him. “And I never lose a bet.”

After a few minutes, the party’s returned to whatever was going on beforehand. Elena’s the center of attention, but no one’s asking her questions about the stunt she just pulled, other than to tell her how smart it was or how hot she and Ali were, and damn, they’d be hot lesbians.

Whenever anyone says this, Elena makes a face. “Ugh, yeah, we would,” she says, and then sighs and pouts. “But you know what they say. The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away.”

“Does that mean you’re the god of hot lesbian sex?” Noel asks.

Elena smirks. “Oh, Noel Kahn,” she says. “I’m the god of all hot sex.”

Everyone notices Elena, how wild she is, how fearless, how funny and charming and smart. Hanna thinks she’s the only one who notices the way Ali’s been looking at Elena ever since Elena pulled away.

. . .

They don’t see Elena again until over a year later, at Ali’s funeral.

. . .

Spencer has never really liked Elena at all, but the Elena she sees at the church, all in black, isn’t the Elena she remembers. She’s with her brother, whose name Spencer can’t recall, and she exchanges a sad hug with Mrs. DiLaurentis.

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. D,” Elena says, pulling back.

Mrs. DiLaurentis takes Elena’s hand. “Thank you so much for coming, Elena, it means so much,” she says. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it to your parents’ funeral. We wanted to, but, we just–”

“Funerals aren’t easy,” Elena says, with a sad little smile. “I understand. It’s okay.”

Spencer wants to ask questions about what she just heard, but she’s too far away, and she doesn’t want to cop up to eavesdropping.

Elena exchanges hugs with all the girls, afterwards; it’s only polite, and whatever Spencer thinks about Elena she knows Elena was Alison’s real friend. There’s something… different, about Elena, when they talk, and Spencer doesn’t know whether it’s because this is Alison’s funeral and the mood is pretty dark, or because Elena’s changed. She doesn’t comment on Hanna’s weight loss, just compliments Hanna’s outfit, and there’s something loaded in the way she looks at Emily that Spencer doesn’t quite understand.

Elena and her brother are staying with the DiLaurentis family and driving home the next day, so Elena leaves with them, just before Detective Wilden comes over to talk to them, and then they get that _message_ and Spencer’s all but forgotten about Elena until she goes home, hours later, and Elena’s sitting in her living room.

“Hi,” Spencer says, a little taken aback, and puts her purse down on the kitchen counter.

Elena offers her a weak smile. “Hey,” she says. “I’m sorry – your parents let me in. I hope I’m not bothering you, I just…” She swallows. “I just needed to get out of there,” she says.

After a moment, Spencer smiles back at her. “I can’t imagine Mrs. D is great company right now,” she says.

Elena laughs, and then stops herself. “I shouldn’t… everyone processes stuff differently,” she says.

Spencer hesitates for a moment. “Um,” she says. “Do you want some tea?”

Elena raises an eyebrow. “By tea, do you really mean coffee?”

“Oh, thank god,” Spencer says, and Elena laughs as Spencer puts on a pot. While it’s brewing, Melissa and Wren walk in.

“Elena,” says Melissa, with one of her tight-lipped smiles. “I heard you were back for the funeral. It’s all so awful, I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“I’m sure you are,” Elena replies, matching Melissa’s expression. Her eyes travel to Wren.

“This is my fiancé, Wren,” Melissa says, and Wren steps forward to shake Elena’s hand.

“Elena,” says Elena. “Nice to meet you.”

“A pleasure,” Wren says. “Are you one of Spencer’s friends?”

“She was one of Ali’s friends,” Melissa says, with a mean little smirk that makes Spencer want to wring her neck, “but I don’t think you were ever friends with the rest of her little followers, were you?”

“Wow, Melissa, what a sensitive way to talk about the fifteen-year-old who was murdered in your backyard,” Elena returns, voice dry as bone. “You’re really respecting the tragedy of it all.”

“So,” says Wren, looking a little lost, “you’re _not_ one of Spencer’s friends?”

“Sure I am,” says Elena, with a bright smile. “And we were in the middle of a deep conversation when you burst in here, so, you know, if you don’t mind.” She tilts her head. “Congrats on the engagement. Blessed be your union, and all. Night.”

The coffee is ready just after Melissa and Wren leave, and Spencer pours them both large mugs and brings them over.

She bites her lip, and then decides to come out with it. “Okay, I know I was eavesdropping and I’m sorry, but I heard you talking to Mrs. D and I have to ask,” she says. “Your parents–”

Elena nods, and sighs, looking down into her mug. “We – we were in a car crash, back in May,” she says. “We went over a bridge. No one knows how I made it out, but… they didn’t.”

“Oh my god,” Spencer says. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks,” Elena says, and then looks up and meets Spencer’s eyes. “I’m sorry Melissa’s moved home,” she says.

Spencer blinks. “What?”

Elena smiles. “I wasn’t as shallow as I came across, you know,” she says. “I know things aren’t easy for you, with her. I’m sorry she’s home again.”

“Thanks,” says Spencer. She looks over at the clock on the microwave – it’s not _late_ , but it’s well into the evening. “You know,” Spencer says, “considering… um, everything, I’m not really planning to sleep tonight, if you want to stick around here.”

Elena smiles at her. It’s a slow smile, and gentle, one she’s never seen on Elena’s face. “Yeah,” she says. “That sounds good.”

. . .

Emily still has Elena’s number, all these years later, even though she never liked Elena all that much in the first place. She knows she’s not the same person as she was back then. She can admit, now, that she was jealous of Elena, that the fact that whenever Elena was around Emily stopped being Ali’s favorite was like a continuous punch in the gut, but the fact that she knows that doesn’t mean she likes Elena any better.

Still. Ali needs her help, and Shana’s back and claiming that she’s Ali’s childhood friend and that Ali trusts her, and Emily definitely doesn’t trust Shana for a second even though her story adds up, because Shana was involved with _Jenna_ , and with _Paige_ , and… she knows she’s supposed to ask Paige about Shana, but she can’t bring herself to do that, not when things are already going to be blown apart if Paige finds out about Ali, and…

If Shana was Ali’s childhood friend from Georgia, there’s a chance Elena knows her, and she probably has more answers than Paige, anyway. So there’s no choice, really. She calls Elena.

Elena picks up on the third ring, right before Emily would have hung up and decided this was a terrible idea. “Emily?” she asks. There are voices in the background. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Emily says. “Um, is this a bad time?”

“No, no,” Elena says. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to ask you something,” Emily says, and swallows.

“Yeah, sure,” Elena says.

“Did you ever know Shana Fring?” Emily asks. “I mean, if you didn’t, that’s fine, just don’t worry about it, but she says she’s Ali’s childhood friend from Georgia and–”

“Wait, Shana’s in Rosewood?” Elena asks. She says the words like they mean something to her.

“Yeah, she’s been here for a while,” Emily says. “You didn’t know?”

“No,” Elena says. “But, uh, yeah, I know Shana. She…” There’s a pause on Elena’s end of the phone. “Actually, you know what, getting out of Mystic Falls right now might be a really good idea. Would you mind if I drove up?”

“Sure,” says Emily, even though she thinks she might mind.

“Great,” says Elena. “I’ll be there in five hours.”

“You’re leaving now?” Emily asks.

Elena laughs, but doesn’t sound amused. “When I said right now, I meant right now,” she says. “I’ll text you when I get to town.”

They meet at the Brew that evening, and… Elena doesn’t look anything like the Elena that Emily remembers, not even the somber Elena she saw at the funeral. She looks thin, and exhausted, and sad in a way that reminds Emily of the look in Ali’s own eyes, just days ago.

“So Shana’s in town,” Elena says.

“Yeah,” Emily says.

Elena rubs at her temple. “Shana was Ali’s grandmother’s neighbor,” she says. “I’ve known her most of my life. We never… we were never really friends, but she was always loyal to Ali.” A wry smile crosses Elena’s face. “Sort of.”

“She’s dating Jenna Marshall,” Emily tells her.

Elena’s eyes jump up her forehead. “Oh, _wow_ ,” she says. “Didn’t… isn’t Jenna the one Ali threw a firecracker at?”

“Wait, you know about that?” Emily asks.

Elena just offers her a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.

Emily takes a deep breath. “Can we trust Shana?” she asks.

Elena narrows her eyes. “With what?” she asks.

Emily looks at Elena, really looks at her, and thinks about the fact that Elena still thinks Alison is dead, and that Elena did love Ali, and Emily thinks that Ali would want Elena to know, would trust Elena to know.

Or maybe Elena already knows, has been in on the secret all this time, and Emily’s already furious enough that Ali trusted Shana that now she has to know if Elena’s aware.

“Put down your coffee,” Emily says, and Elena does. “I have to tell you something, but you can’t freak out, people will notice.”

A strange look crosses Elena’s eyes. “Okay,” she says.

Emily takes a deep breath, and then says, quiet as she can, “Ali’s alive.”

Elena doesn’t react for a long moment, just stares at her, face blank. “They found her body,” she says at last, voice quiet. “She’s not alive.”

“I’ve seen her,” Emily says. “Twice. She’s alive.”

Elena looks down, and starts shaking her head, as though in a trance. “That’s not… that’s not possible –” She meets Emily’s eyes. “Tell me you’re not just screwing with my head.”

“Elena, I swear, she’s alive,” Emily says.

Elena’s breathing is heavy. “Then why isn’t – why isn’t she home? Why is it a secret?”

“She said that someone’s after her,” Emily says. “That whoever tried to kill her is still after her, and she has to stay hidden.”

“Do you know who that is?” Elena asks.

Emily shakes her head.

Elena swallows. “Do you know where she is?” she asks.

“No,” Emily says. “But Shana says she does. That’s why–”

“Oh, Ali,” Elena says, and she looks like she’s on the verge of tears. “Why –” She shakes her head.

“Do you think Shana’s telling the truth?” Emily asks.

“Yeah,” Elena says. “But you shouldn’t trust her, and neither should Ali – god.” Elena swallows.

“Why not?” Emily asks.

Elena takes a breath, and looks out the window behind her for a long moment. “Ali played games with people,” she says, finally. “We all – I mean, we all know that, but… I don’t think Shana did. I think she believed every story Alison ever told her, about herself, about their friendship…” She turns back around, takes a long swig of her coffee. “Ali’s talent was making you feel like she was the only person in the world who really connected with you, like she was the answer to every question you’d ever have, but I think we all realized that half of who she was was the stories she made up about herself, and which ones she wished were true.”

Emily had never heard anyone say it like that. She didn’t know how to feel about it, or how to feel about Elena. She’d never thought, not for one second, that Elena had that much insight into Alison. She’d never really thought their friendship ran deeper than a mutual love of being the most adored girl in the room.

“Shana only knew all the best stories, and she thought they were all true,” Elena says. “And she couldn’t stand me because I represented a different set of stories, and she refused to believe a single one of them, and… the Ali everyone from Georgia knew wasn’t the Ali everyone in Rosewood knew. If Shana’s in Rosewood – if Shana’s with Jenna – there’s no way she’s still holding onto her memory of Alison. And Shana has an all-or-nothing way of looking at the world. If she doesn’t think Ali’s the source of all good, she thinks she’s the source of all evil, and…”

Elena shakes her head. “Sorry. Wow. I’m sorry, I haven’t seen Shana in years and here I am analyzing her. She could have changed. She could be trustworthy. I could be all wrong.”

“But you wouldn’t bet on it,” Emily says.

Elena offers her a tight-lipped smile. “No,” she says. “I wouldn’t.”

. . .

In the aftermath of everything that happened in New York, Aria is in such a daze on the bus that she almost misses it when Emily says, “Elena told us we couldn’t trust Shana.”

“Elena?” Ali says, and Aria looks over to see that Ali’s eyes are enormous. “You talked to Elena about Shana?”

“She came to town,” Emily replies. “I – I told her you were alive, actually.”

“Oh my god,” says Ali. “I need to talk to her.

“You need to talk to the police, first,” Spencer tells her. “Okay? We all do.”

Aria doesn’t think about Elena again until they’re staring at Mrs DiLaurentis’s hand protruding from the ground and Spencer’s trying to push Jason away and she hears “oh my god” in a voice she hasn’t heard in years.

She sees Elena with her hand clasped over her mouth, and then sees Alison at the door to her house, and Elena seems to hear the boards of the porch creek because she turns around and sprints to Ali. She holds Ali while Ali stares on in shock, holds Ali’s hand as Alison watches a stretcher carry her mother away, and walks Ali back into her house, arm wrapped around her back, when Alison finally starts to cry.

. . .

It was strange for the five of them to be together again, Aria thinks, but it’s even stranger for it to be the six of them, for Elena to be with them in the DiLaurentis house. Except instead of Elena giggling and talking about booze and boys, she’s counseling Alison on how to handle the funeral.

“It’s best to have responses prepared,” Elena tells her. “At least three different ones. It’s the most efficient way to deal with the awkward sympathies.”

Ali shakes her head. “I still can’t believe both your parents…” she trails off. “I wish I could’ve been at the funeral,” she says.

“Trust me, you don’t,” Elena says.

Alison blinks at the ground, and then looks at her. “You’re living with Jenna now, right? That's what I heard.”

“Um, I was,” Elena says. “She, uh, she died. In the spring.”

“Wait, what?” Ali asks. “I thought–”

Elena shakes her head and smiles. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” she says. “You don’t think about anything but getting through the day, today.”

Aria wonders what Elena thinks of Ali’s kidnapping story, whether or not she believes it. Emily had told Elena that Alison was alive, which means Elena might know the real story, but she doesn’t know what Alison’s told her, if anything. She hopes Ali didn’t tell her the truth about Shana. Aria doesn’t think she can handle anyone else knowing.

It’s interesting, watching Elena, now that so much has changed. Aria’s on high alert, these days, after she – after what happened in New York, and she can’t tell what Elena does or doesn’t know, and she’s never paid that much attention to Elena before other than to resent her for acting like Aria was immature, but now that she’s paying attention, there’s so much to think about.

Elena stays at Ali’s house, in the guest room, but as far as Aria can tell Ali’s the only person in the house Elena cares about. Elena doesn’t like Mr. DiLaurentis much, that’s clear, though what’s clearer is how much she hates Jason.

“Hey,” Aria says, at one point, after Elena makes a snide comment about being surprised Jason can remember Alison just by her face. “Jason is sober now, you know. You can’t hate him for how he was when he was using.”

“My brother was a total junkie for months after our parents died,” Elena says, “and he managed not to be a creep.”

It’s all she has to say on the subject.

She also, as it turns out, knew that Ezra was Board Shorts the whole time, and it makes Aria want to kick herself that they had such an easy way to find out about him, if only they’d ever asked.

“Don’t you have school or something?” Aria asks her, after Elena’s been in town for a whole week.

Elena shrugs. “Yeah, I don’t really go,” she says.

“Don’t you have to take care of your brother, then?” Aria asks.

Elena shakes her head. “He’s living with family in Denver,” she says.

“So, what,” asks Aria, “you’re going to just stay here and drop out of high school?”

Elena stares at her like the thought has never occurred to her.

“You know,” she says, and then she heads outside and pulls out her phone. Aria creeps over to the window, cracks it open, and listens as Elena speaks.

“Klaus,” Elena says. “I want to make a deal.” She shoots a look over her shoulder, and Aria doesn’t duck out of the way in time. Elena grins at her. “I’m leaving Mystic Falls, and I want you to leave too.”

. . .

Living in Rosewood, as it turns out, is almost as messy as living in Mystic Falls. There aren’t as many dead people – though there was a faked death, which was kind of new – and there doesn’t _seem_ to be anything supernatural going on, though she’s heard rumors about some old witch and a haunted town nearby – but it’s still the kind of town Elena knows she should run far, far away from.

And she will. But she has one last thing to do here.

She lifts the skirt of her dress and crosses the floor of the gym, through throngs of dancing couples and past tables of likely spiked punch, towards Alison.

“You didn’t tell me you’d be crashing prom,” Elena says.

Ali turns to look at her, blonde curls flying out behind her. “Elena, I have to–”

Elena holds out her hand. “Your long-lost sibling can wait,” she says. “First, I’d like a dance.”

Ali sighs. “There’s no time–”

“It’s one dance,” Elena says, smile widening. “I think A can wait. It’s your prom.”

Ali looks around, and god, she’s a vision, golden curls and red lips, yellow and black lace delicate against the soft skin of her collarbone. “It’s a slow dance,” she says.

“I know,” Elena replies, hand still out, palm up.

After a moment, Ali places her hand in Elena’s, and Elena draws her in. Ali’s only ever been the tiniest bit shorter than her, and in their heels they’re the exact same height. Ali’s hands are hesitant on her shoulders, but Elena’s hands fit against Ali’s waist like they were built – however many centuries ago the first doppelganger was born – to hold her.

The song comes to a close, and their swaying comes to a stop.

“Well,” says Ali, and bites her lip. “I should… I need to get going, now. Wish me luck.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Elena says.

She leans in and kisses her.

Ali’s lips are as soft as she remembers, back when kissing her was a party trick or a liquor-fuelled joke in the dark of Ali’s room. She doesn’t taste like any of the flavors Elena assigns to her, based on Ali’s favorite perfumes; she tastes like hot summer evenings and the breaking of dawn after being out all night; she tastes like the first breath of air Elena took after waking up from the sacrifice, like resurrection.

She tastes like the future neither of them were meant to have.

She tastes like forever.


End file.
